


Stupid People in Hospitals

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Coma, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one of Jean's lifelong friends ends up in a coma,  Jean finds himself lost in a hospital, asking directions from a very lonely stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid People in Hospitals

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading this! It certainly isn't the best and I'm one hundred percent open to constructive criticism. I wrote it on a whim and hope to finish it within 3-5 chapters, which will alternate between Marco and Jean narrating. Thank you for your attention, and please enjoy. :)

I was almost relieved when Eren said he and Mikasa had to leave. I was the first to jump up and volunteer to take them downstairs, feeling almost heartless that I wanted so badly to leave.

How was I supposed to feel, watching her lie there? When she was normally so mobile and excitable? With him just looking at her, as if he could burst into tears at any moment, and everyone else afraid to say anything, for fear of breaking the silence.

I’d never thought I’d see Connie like that.

I’d never thought I’d see _Sasha_ like _that._

With bandages, and machines, and her eyes closed, looking for all the world as if she was already -

Well.

Eren, the asshole, stopped at the elevator, his hand trembling over the button. He was shaking all over, the way he did when he was gearing up to punch someone. There was no one to hit, though, so he stood there, furious at nothing, until Mikasa gently came up beside him and pushed the button. As if she’d broken some spell, he looked up, gritting his teeth, rumbling the same as an incoming storm - indirect, ominous, and continuous, “I cannot believe… drinking, in that situation… Sasha never… And why aren’t they doing anything?! Why are they just lying her down and putting stuff in her?! She’s got - she had -”

Mikasa and I had no answer to his questions. Eventually, as the elevator arrived, Mikasa shook her head, saying to Eren, “They’re doing their best. I’m sure they know what they’re doing. And the man that did it is going to court.”

We were quiet again as we entered the elevator. I hadn’t been on the boating expedition with them - I’d had a thing with my family already, and while I’d really have rather been with my friends, my dad was being an ass about it. Not many of us had been able to go, actually, and all of us had wanted to, what with summer break only having two weeks left. So it had just been Connie, Sasha, Armin, Reiner, Bertholdt, and Sasha’s half-sister Hanji on the boat.

I guess Sasha was waterskiing when some passing motorboat came swerving - she wasn’t hit directly, but the waves had sent her flying. The current theory is that she smacked her head on a log. Nonetheless, if she hadn’t been wearing her life jacket, she’d be gone.

We’d reached the ground floor. Eren hesitated before moving. “Connie looked like he could’ve killed himself,” he whispered.

Mikasa placed a hand on his back, guiding him forward. I followed after, lost in thought. I tried to think about how it’s probably lucky - she wasn’t hit directly, the boat didn’t get hit. I tried to imagine Connie and Armin and Reiner and Bert all lying still, the same as her. But it still sucked. She was still not here and trying to make the best of the situation is pretty freaking difficult when one of your lifelong friends is completely fucking unreachable.

We had reached the doorway, Eren still looking like he wanted to murder his entire surroundings and Mikasa fighting to stay detached and junk. They were getting picked up - their family only has two cars, so if their parents are both doing something, they have to rely on them for transportation. Their mother’s distinctive, ancient blue minivan was already outside.

We didn’t really say goodbye. We just stood in front of the door, eyes on the floor.

“Go upstairs,” Eren said, “Make sure Connie’s okay.”

I snorted in spite of myself. “That’s impossible.”

He glared at me from beneath furrowed brows, and I could almost see the gears turning in his slow little brain. Finally, he relaxed, seeming to decide that now wasn’t the time. “I guess that’s true,” he murmured.

There was another moment of silence, and he and Mikasa silently departed. Mikasa did not look back, though there was a slump to her shoulders that I hadn’t ever noticed before, even during my obsession with her back in middle school. Eren, on the other hand, looked as if it was a struggle even to walk out the door, glancing back over and over again.

And then they were gone.

I didn’t want to go back.

I didn’t want to look at my friend’s faces, particularly the ones who had been at the scene - Connie was the worst of them, but Armin, Bertholdt, and Reiner weren’t much better. They all had just sat there, staring at her, like keeping an eye on her would make her safe at last. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t go back up there.

My feet started moving and I wasn't sure where they were taking me. Maybe walking around would make me stop griping about it.

It’s a funny thing when you’re sad, especially when you’ve been sitting, watching a corpse all day.

That was harsh. I’d better not say it to Connie. Or anyone else, for that matter.

But you start to notice things. Would I have seen the pain Mikasa was hiding if I hadn’t been watching a comatose girl for signs of life for the past two hours? Would I have even cared what Eren was doing?

People turn into saps when they have a half-dead friend. I guess it’s a rule.

I stopped at a drinking fountain to get some water. My mouth still felt dry.

I decided it was time to go back. If I could find the way.

It was the third floor, right? All these hallways looked exactly the damn same. And there was definitely a right - no, left turn. Hold on…

Nope, this didn’t look right at all. The rooms were bigger - with glass windows facing the hallway and curtains. There was a desk, but no one was there.

A thought occurred to me suddenly. Feeling around in my pockets, I found that my phone was missing. I just barely remembered leaving it on a table in Sasha’s room - next to Annie.

I groaned. I was totally lost. Great.

Looking around, I saw one room with an open curtain, the occupant inside fully visible. Would he mind if I asked him for help? Fuck it, here I go.

I shuffled up to the doorway and tapped on the frame with my knuckles. “Uh,” I muttered, suddenly realizing that this was totally rude. Fuck.

Sunlight was filtering through the window, making it hard to make sense of the patient’s dark silhouette. It looked male - tall, slender - close to my age.

“Hello?”

****  
  


_It was the turn of the century and child labor laws were still nonexistent._

_What kind of child wants to grow up in a factory?_

_At the Cannery, there was constant noise. The employees had to scream in each other’s ears to be heard. The machines were tremendous, towering over everyone’s heads._

_In this bleak environment, there was one little drop of sunshine. Two boys - a twelve-year-old with a copiously freckled face and a nine-year-old with one of those trending hairstyles that didn’t actually make the wearer look any good, especially when it was a home cut from a mother who didn’t actually know what her son was asking for - had become friends. They’d gotten to know each other so well that they could communicate without actually hearing each other. The elder boy was always bright and cheerful, and when his younger pal was feeling down for whatever reason, he always knew what to do to make him happy._

_One day, he even snuck his friend a chocolate bar. It was his favorite kind, he knew, and was sure to make whatever was getting his friend down completely negated. The younger boy was having bad dreams - something about gigantic people and cannibalism._

_As he approached his post, he was so excited that he forgot to look where he was going. Someone had left their coat on the floor._

_Rounding a corner, the youngster failed to notice this most unfortunate of obstacles._

_He slipped and fell right into the canning machine._

_The canning machine wasted no time in shredding him - grinding his skin and bones and the offending chocolate bar in his pocket._

 

The boy hesitated in the doorway, looking nervously at me. I felt confused - I’d never seen him before, so he couldn't possibly be here to see me. Hoping he hadn’t gotten a clear look at my face, I wiped my eyes and called, “Hello?”

He dipped his head awkwardly, stepping forward into the light. He had some of that weird hair - dark at the roots and light at the ends, but perfectly natural. Kind of scruffy, tossed up. He had a narrow head and squinting eyes - though the light was just behind me, so that may just have been him adjusting. “I’m,” he started, “Well, I guess I’m lost. I’m not sure where I’m going.”

I mustered up a smile - it was worth being polite, even if I wasn’t feeling so great, myself, and even if I didn’t know him terribly well. “Where are you going?”

“My friend,” he began again, and I noticed how his breath seemed to catch in his throat, “is in a coma.” He was quiet for a moment.

Goodness. What could I have said? He was clearly miserable - was there anything I could have done to make him feel better?

“Listen - I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll just leave, I’m sure I can find someone else to -”

“No!” I exclaimed, without fully knowing why, lunging forward a bit. He looked up at me, and I felt my eyes sting. I continued more quietly, “I’m sorry if it’s selfish of me - I just - I haven’t had anyone. To talk to. Nobody’s visited for a couple days.”

I hung my head, scared of the answer.

There was another moment of silence. Then he began to approach me, his footsteps clear and cutting.

“Hey,” he whispered, reaching his hand out, “are you crying?”

I was. I felt terrible about it.

“I’m sorry. For asking. You should go.”

“No - it’s good, man. I mean - I didn’t really want to sit in that room, watching her - she doesn’t even know I’m there. You. You look like you need a friend, or whatever.” I could hear in his voice how flustered he was. I continued staring at my bedsheets. They were outlined in soft light from outside, making them look soft and heavenly. “What’s your name?”

I didn’t expect the question, so I answered immediately and with complete honesty. “Marco Bodt.”

“Jean. Kirschstein.”

His voice sounded like a subway station. Busy and crowded and always full of people. I liked it.

“Haven’t your parents been visiting?”

I flinched. My eyes overflowed.

“Marco?”

Soft, like clouds.

“Dude, would you look at me?”

“My parents are dead,” I sobbed.

“You’re - what? Is that why you’re here?” I felt his eyes on me and finally looked up. He was stricken, his narrow hazel eyes wide with shock.

“No,” I said, tears burning tracks down my face, “They died two months ago. It was a drive-by shooting. I have cardiomyopathy. I was staying with my uncle, but I got sick. Now I have to stay here for a while.”

Why was I telling him my life’s story? I had no idea who he even was. His friend was in a coma and his name was Jean.

He was still looking at me with his eyes. They looked like a sigh. He took a deep breath.

“How long do you have to be here?”

It was another question that I hadn’t predicted. “It could be a while,” I ventured, “I need a new heart, but unless I’m in a real emergency, that could be a couple months from now. Maybe years.”

He grimaced. “You’re in the hospital! That’s not the result of an emergency?!”

I almost smiled. His reactions were funny. “Not a life-threatening one,” I replied, trying to pull myself together.

He continued frowning at me. “I don’t get it. Why can’t they just give you a new one?”

“There aren’t enough. They need a heart that matches my blood type and some other bits and pieces, and that’s difficult enough - they also have hundreds of other people waiting in line. Just being hospitalized has bumped me way up the list, and it still could be a long time. Though,” I added, more of an afterthought than anything else, “I feel a little bad. There are people that have waited years and years for a heart transplant, and I’ve just skipped along in front of them…”

Jean sat himself in the unused chair next to my bed. He looked at me for a long time, long enough for me to notice how dark his eyebrows were, and how light his eyelashes were.

“Um,” I interrupted the silence, growing uncomfortable, “What’s wrong?”

“You’re really nice,” he said, as if it were the worst thing ever. “Your life sucks. Nice people’s lives suck. They have unpronounceable heart things and get into comas and lose their parents when they shouldn’t be fucking losing their fucking parents.”

I didn’t understand what could have been giving him that impression. I leaned forward again, feeling my eyebrows come together. “... Thank you. I mean - I don’t see why -”

“You’re sick and you’ve got to stay in this ridiculous place,” he told me, very seriously, “And you’re still feeling sorry for other people.” He leaned on his armrest, covering one eye with his palm and shutting the other. A voice in my head said, No. Don’t hide from me. “Sasha does that. No matter how much she likes something, she’ll give it to someone else if they ask for it, or even if she just catches them looking.”

I heard the tenderness in his voice and felt oddly disappointed, which I guess was as much proof that I was nothing like he had described me as. “Did you…” I began to ask, then thought better of it. “Uh, never mind.”

Jean looked incredulously at me. “What? Gross, no.” He actually laughed a bit, and then seemed to grow sick. “But - I mean - she’s - it’s scary, you know? I have no idea what’s going to happen to her. And I’ve known her so long.” He leaned on his hand again, cupping his chin. “Is it weird? I’ve basically been friends with the same people since forever.”

Trying to suppress my odd sense of relief, I smiled, genuinely, and chuckled, “No, not at all. I’ve been homeschooled since middle school, and I’m still friends with the same people from elementary school. And I don’t see them, ever - they live in Arizona.”

“Really?” He leaned forward. “Just them?”

“Nope! I have some friends from community theatre!” He was still frowning. “Oh, it’s not that bad,” I assured him, “Whenever the theater kids are doing something after their school gets out, they’ll text me and we’ll get together. It’s nice.” I decided not to tell him that the community theatre friends were from Maryland, and that I’d only moved to Wisconsin after my parents had died - to live with my uncle, of course.

I guess the truth was, I didn’t have any friends.

Jean didn’t need to know that. I didn’t want him to get even more worried about me.

A smile spread across his lips. His lips were very red. I was looking at his lips. This was weird. I almost flinched when they parted to form the words, “Oh, yeah? Tell me about them.”

I wanted to hear his voice some more. “Tell me about yours first.”

The corner of his mouth went up. “Well, I suppose I could fill you in. Who do you want to hear about, first?”

“Just tell me about your best friend, and go from there!”

He twisted his mouth, thinking a bit. “Frankly, I don’t know if I have… Well, he’s mine, but I’m not his, you know? This kid named Armin. He’s like, smarter than Einstein. But he’s been friends with Eren and Mikasa since they were four, so they’re closer to one another than Armin is to me.”

My heart ached for him. I knew how it felt, when you weren’t your best friend’s best friend. But I’d already lied to him - and, strangely, I didn’t want to lose his trust. But I also wanted to help, to say something. I had to choose my words carefully. Reaching forward, coming just short of his shoulder, I said, “I know how you feel. I… I know I just met you, and you don’t even know me, and - b-but,” As the words came out of my mouth, I could feel myself chickening out. I wanted to beat myself up, but I didn’t want his pity - I wanted to help him.

He took a look at me and smiled. “Well, when you say it so eloquently, I can’t help but accept. I’d love to have you as my best friend.”

****  
  


_Families of influence are fragile._

_The duke’s eldest son and his valet were the best of friends. His mother was always scornful about it - muttering this, insinuating that about how improper it was to be companions - and proud companions - of the lesser citizens. The duke’s son hardly paid her any mind, knowing that there were few he could trust better than his faithful friend._

_There was one reason in particular that it was important for him to have people he could trust; his blood could not clot. One small papercut could require him to lie down for a few hours. Knowing what we do now, he was probably disabled so due to the large amount of inbreeding in that particular royal family(it was a problem with the king’s children, as well). Still, he managed to remain optimistic, particularly when with his valet._

_However, because of his hopeful and accepting way of treating people, his family worried that the peasants of their jurisdiction would gain too much power if he were to take over._

_His lifelong friend was the only one to express agony - or even surprise - when the duke’s son’s body was found, dead of a knife through his hand._

****  
  


I’d stayed too long with Marco. It had been nearly an hour, chatting about my friends and school and stuff, before I’d realized I really needed to go. With the promise to come back whenever possible, I bid him goodbye and went outside. This time, there was a man at the desk who pointed me in the right direction(I was on the completely wrong floor, and may also have been an idiot because there were signs pointing where to go basically everywhere. I guess I really HAD been spacing out).

To my surprise, once I’d come back to the correct floor, I bumped into Annie and Armin right away. “Jean!” Armin had called, trotting down the hall with Annie in tow.

“Hey, Armin,” I called back, feeling much better than I had when I’d originally left.

“It’s been almost two hours! Where have you been? Annie and I came to look for you. We didn’t know if you’d left already, because you left your phone and your wallet.”

“Hanji’s here,” Annie deadpanned.

“Uh, yes, and she brought -”

“She started wailing the moment she entered the room.”

“Yes she did, and she also brought sandwiches -”

“So we volunteered to get the fuck out of there.”

“That is definitely not -”

“Also we made out a little because Armin was crying.”

_“Annie Jean does not want to hear -”_

“Well, I’m back,” I cut in, knowing how much Annie liked getting Armin flustered. The girl, who had never been passionate about anything except judo in her whole life, had found her muse in her relationship with Armin. It was hilarious, but enough was enough. “Sorry it took so long.”

“What happened?”

I considered telling him. Where was the harm, really? He had to understand why I’d rather chat with a lonely kid than watch Sasha not do anything. And Marco was really nice - maybe I could get my friends to go see him, too. “First off - I kinda needed a breather. You know? So I was wandering around, and I got lost, and I ended up in this guy’s room. I didn’t even really mean to talk to him, just ask him where to go, and it turned out he was our age and super nice. He really cheered me up, and he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. So.”

Armin bit his lip, nodding along with my story. Annie maybe raised her eyebrows, but generally seemed disinterested. “If he’s alone, maybe we can meet him sometime - once Sasha gets better,” Armin suggested, “Granted he’s still here. What’s he sick with?”

“Some heart thing. He told me what it was fifty times and I still don’t remember. But he could be here for months.” I paused before adding, “I told him I’d come back tomorrow.”

Armin tipped his head to one side. “Jean,” he sighed, “Maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you should come see Sasha.”

What the fuck? “I don’t see why I can’t visit both of them,” I replied, slowly. “If I’m here, I might as well visit both.”

“You only met him a little while ago, Jean. Sasha’s condition is bad. We need to support her.”

I fought the urge to scoff. “She doesn’t even know we’re here, Armin. We can support her all we want, but she’s still a vegetable. Marco is awake and lonely and I’d rather make his day than sit around -”

“Jean. That’s enough.” Armin’s voice frightened me. He leaned in close to me and whispered, not gently, “Sasha could _die_ , Jean. I don’t know if you’re in denial or if you seriously don’t understand the gravity of the situation -”

“Marco could die, too,” I hissed back, matching his tone, still unsure what the deal was, “And he is spending his last months alone. His friends haven’t been visiting him, Armin. I don’t know why, but he hasn’t seen anyone in days. He made me feel better and I think maybe I helped him out, too. I’m still here for Sasha. But she is somewhere else, and Marco is right fucking here, having to sit there looking out his window with no one to entertain him. I think Marco might need me more than Sasha.”

Armin maintained his stance, but Annie touched his shoulder. “I think he’s right,” she mumbled, surprising us both. Seeing our faces, she shrugged. “The doctor even said, she’s probably only going to be under for two to four weeks, at most. Her risk of dying is low. And she’s not even really here.” She looked at me. “Jean can spend his time how he likes.”

The information from the doctor was news to me. “Where’d you hear all that?” I asked.

“Hanji told us before she lost it,” Annie informed me, before Armin could say anything much. She added in a resentful undertone, “And yet, she still went into crazy mode.”

“She was looking at her sister in a hospital bed,” Armin responded, “You couldn’t have blamed her.” He continued looking at Annie, saying, “And I guess you’re right. I was being hard on Jean.”

“It’s okay, Armin,” I intercepted, knowing he had only wanted to be fair, “I would probably say the same thing if I hadn’t already met Marco. I mean, if you got to know this kid - well - he’s awesome. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Armin managed a smile. “Maybe some other day. In the meantime, let’s get back before they have to send a search party after the search party!”

Sasha’s room was considerably more cheerful than I’d expected it to be. Hanji was passing out cookies, grinning, though her eyes were clearly red from tears. Someone had tied Sasha’s hair back so that it was no longer spread out all over the pillow and was instead in a sloppy bun. A few more people had left, including Bertholdt, Reiner, and Ymir, leaving only Armin, Annie, Christa, Connie, and me.

When she saw us walking in, Hanji exclaimed, “Hi, Jean!” as if I was the most pleasant thing that had happened to her all day. Hanji could do that. I guess she was just like her sister that way. “Want something to eat? It’s dinner time, you know.”

I had to decline. Somehow, I wasn’t very hungry. “You know what, I should probably go, actually. I’ve been here all day and my parents will worry.” I found my gaze gravitating towards Connie as I spoke.

Connie was sitting in the corner by Sasha’s head, staring numbly at his best friend. His head moved up and down as if he was nodding, though he didn’t seem to be agreeing to anything in particular. I found myself saying, “Connie?”

He looked up, mouth set in a straight line, eyes wide.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?”

He didn’t answer for a second. Then he nodded slowly.

“I’ll come with you.”

****  
  



End file.
